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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23257474">Say Something I'm Giving Up On You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableTrajectory/pseuds/IneffableTrajectory'>IneffableTrajectory</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Broadchurch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Flashbacks, Hospitalization, M/M, Major Character Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:49:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23257474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableTrajectory/pseuds/IneffableTrajectory</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul and Alec learn to live and love again after Alec is injured in the line of duty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paul Coates &amp; Alec Hardy, Paul Coates/Alec Hardy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Can We Please Just Talk About It?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please, as always, pay attention to the tags and turn back if any of these things are a no go for you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Alec, you *know* I love you," Paul said, begging Alec to believe him. Praying silently that this wouldn't lead to Alec having another episode. He felt guilty for thinking it, but he didn't know if he had the energy to handle it tonight. </p><p>"Aye, but do you *like me*? When we go places, are you *happy* it's me on your arm, or do you wish it was someone else? Someone younger, somone prettier, someone healthier?" Alec replied, growing more and more frantic with each passing second. "Because sometimes I swear you're a million miles away. We're close enough to touch, but we aren't, you won't. I see the disappointment in your eyes sometimes when you look and find me. I know I'm not what you've always wanted, but can't I be what you want *now*?" Tears welled up in his eyes as his breathing came in desperate shallow gasps, his heart pounding in his throat. </p><p>He never thought he'd be the type to beg, but he was also the one that said you can never truly know someone. He supposed that was true enough for your own self as well. He knew this day would come though. He knew he would do something to chase Paul away. To burn him out, to wear him down to nothing until he gave up on them and their planned future.</p><p>As he paced, Alec ran his hands through his hair and pulled, over and over, harder and harder, trying to ground himself and keep from slipping away into his "nothing space" as he called it. It wasn't working. He could feel pressure on his arms, pulling at his hands and his hair, could hear a far off voice. When did it get so hot and why did it feel like a million pins and needles were being pressed into his face and scalp? </p><p>He felt the room tip sideways and then he felt himself getting sick down his front. A jolt of pain shot through his right side, down his back, around to his abdomen and he gasped for air as he felt his body contract again, expelling what was left in his stomach. Was he lying down now? Why here, why now? When did he become so *fragile*? He was just trying to have a conversation with his husband when this wave swelled silently behind him, raced towards them and broke over him with no warning. And now he was drowning in it. Hyperventilating and sobbing and writhing on the floor in his own sick.</p><p>Slowly, oh, so slowly, he began to calm. He felt Paul all around him, holding him, rocking him, running a soothing hand through his hair. Lips were pressed to his temple, his crown, his ear. He whispered reassuring words. It was all done as if on autopilot. And Alec could tell. He could tell as he shuddered and stifled a sob, pushing Paul off and rising to his feet. He wiped at his face and mumbled about having a shower as he limped away, steadying himself on furniture and the walls. Paul offered a half hearted protest, but ultimately let Alec go without much fight. He put a kettle on to boil and prayed silently that Alec could pull himself together on his own tonight. He felt guilty, but he was also spent. Ever since Alec was injured in the line of duty three months ago, their marriage had been strained at best. His near daily panic attacks and refusal for counseling were beginning to wear on Paul. His scars were not only physical, but mental and emotional as well, and Paul knew his internalization of the trauma would only bring more harm. Paul jumped when the kettle whistled and snapped him out of his own broody thoughts. He heard the shower shut off a moment later and a few minutes after that, he heard the door to their bedroom open and close. By the time he had finished his tea and retreated to their room, Alec had dressed in his pajamas, turned out the lights and gone to bed. He realized a moment too late that he hadn't even offered Alec any tea to settle his stomach or his nerves, nor had he come to check on him while he showered or dressed for the night. When had he stopped taking care of him without a second thought? When had his comfort become an *after thought*? </p><p>"Alec?" Paul whispered as he paused in the doorway, knowing Alec was awake. He didn't respond. He didn't grunt, or flinch, or turn his head in Paul's direction. He didn't acknowledge him at all. Paul sighed heavily from where he stood and forced himself to walk the short distance to his husband's slender form. He lay facing away from him, still motionless and curled in on himself. Paul could see in the light from the moon through the window that Alec's eyes were open and he was still trembling slightly.  From pain, or fear or both, Paul was unsure. "I love you." he whispered as he bent to press a kiss on his head again. "Can we talk? Please?" Paul was the one practically begging now. "No." Alec said simply, then pulled the covers over his head. Paul sighed heavily again, not caring how immature he sounded, seeing as Alec himself had just hidden under a blanket in order to avoid confrontation like a petulant child. </p><p>Where did they even go from here?</p><p>As he turned to walk away, he heard Alec sniffle and stifle a sob.  He felt his heart break a little as he continued on his way out of the room,  closing the door behind him without so much as a backward glance.</p><p> </p><p>And that night, for the first time in their relationship, Paul slept on the couch.  He didn't get up to check on him when he heard him wake violently from a nightmare, didn't hold him and wipe his tears away, didn't go to comfort him or offer his medicine on schedule.  It would all be fought against and rejected anyway, what was the point?  Instead, he lay on the couch staring at the ceiling while his husband howled in anguish, calling his name, over and over.  Eventually Alec's wailing subsided to low moans and then to silence.  And then Paul fell into an exhausted, restless sleep.</p><p>The next morning, when Alec stumbled out of their bedroom for a glass of water and some toast, Paul could see that his wrists and hands were raw and bloodied.  He had dried blood around his mouth and chin and caked around his fingernails.  Paul was aghast, though he said nothing, simply staring at Alec while he tried to hold his hands still enough to butter his toast.  Paul jumped when the knife slipped from Alec's hand and clattered to the floor, and only then did he realize he'd been staring.  "Alec, what on earth have you done to yourself this time?" he spat out in an accusatory tone that he had not intended on taking.  Alec flinched and tried to hide his battered hands under his arms as he abandoned his attempt at breakfast and made to retreat to their bedroom.  Paul stood up, blocking his way out.  "NO! You listen to me, show me your hands and tell me what you've done! Why would you do this to yourself?!?"  </p><p>Alec deflated under the weight of Paul's anger and sat down at the kitchen table.  He kept his hands hidden, unwilling to show Paul the damage he'd done to himself the night before.  "Was just tryna distract myself, it's nothing..." he said, trying and failing to play it off casually.  "Nothing?!?" Paul practically screamed, "Look at you!! You're a mess!!" Hardy hung his head and stared at his feet as a single hot tear slipped down his face and onto his shirt. "Aye, I know..." he said quietly.  "M sorry."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. "Why didn't you come?"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Paul and Alec walk through the events the night before.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Same warnings apply.  Stay safe, friends.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Sweetheart, no, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant...What...your hands, darling...what happened last night?" Paul said, now choking back his own sobs as he knelt down and put his trembling hands on Alec's bony knees. "You....you never came to bed...." Alec began shakily. "A-a-and I...had a nightmare and when I reached out to find you, you weren't there. So I got up to look for you, but my back spasmd and I fell...and I called, but you never came, and I could see the clock from the floor, I thought you'd be in to give me my medicine at midnight, but you never came," he whispered, tears falling faster, hands shaking harder. Paul sat silently cursing himself for his own stupidity and pride. How long had his husband lay on the floor suffering while he pouted on their couch? Sometime before midnight, so well over seven hours. "And the pain, it was just...it was so bad, and I thought you'd hear me callin' out, but you never came. So I....I...I just started diggin' into my arm with my nails to distract myself from the rest of it, and then I couldn't stop cryin' so I put my hand in my mouth to try and keep quiet and biting myself made me feel better, changed the pain to something smaller, something I could handle. I didn't realize how bad it was til you said somethin'....." he finished, somewhat lamely. He was taller than Paul by a few inches, but he looked so, so small as he sat at the kitchen table, picking nervously at his already battered skin.</p><p>'Oh God.' Paul thought. 'Oh God he needed me and I didn't come. I didn't come and he hurt himself because he was in so much pain, and so afraid.' </p><p>"Oh Alec, darling, please forgive me. I'm so, so sorry I didn't come when you called out for me. I....I don't know what to say, or how to mke this better, I..." Paul stammered. He could feel Alec's head snap up as he fixed his gaze on him. "Why *didn't* you come?" Alec said in a voice so clear that is was Paul's turn to look at the floor in shame. "I just....I *couldn't*?" Paul floundered, knowing Alec wouldn't accept this answer. Not by a longshot. "You couldn't?" Alec repeated incredulously, spitting the words out like they were poisonous. He was angry now, Paul could feel it. And isn't this how it went now? It was like some torturous emotional merry go round that Alec had sentenced himself to ride forever, like a new kind of *penance* he'd put himself under. He would take a situation and hyper fixate on it, blow it out of proportion, panic until he was sick with it, feel guilty for the first three, and then turn that guilt into anger. And the anger was the one that he usually took out on Paul the most. Because he was there, and available, and would listen to Alec's yelling and screaming. So when he pushed up from his chair, dumping Paul's hands from his knees, and began to pace, Paul wasn't surprised. He was ready for this part. Ready for the yelling and the screaming. The verbal abuse. </p><p>What did surprise him though was Alec making it only a few steps away before he slid down the wall of the kitchen and sat silently, arms held tightly around his legs, face buried in his knees. His breath was growing ragged again, and his brown eyes were rapidly filling as turned to look up at Paul. He had started subconsciously picking at his hands and wrists again, seeming to draw comfort from the warmth of the blood that was slowly seeping out of him. "You didn't come. Because you couldn't." Alec said matter of factly, gently nodding his head, and staring over Paul's shoulder, as if he was weighing his options. "Is this it then? Are we over, you and me? Because even Tess wouldn't have let me lay on the floor in pain all night....could you....did you hear me and just *willfully* ignore me?" Alec asked, his voice thick with emotion and unshed tears.</p><p>"Yes." Paul said numbly and even he didn't know if he was answering Alec's first, second or third question.</p><p>"Jesus," Alec gasped, burying his face in his knees again, still grounding himself by raking his nails along his brutalized arms. "You fucking monster." He seethed at Paul, refusing or unable to look at him. "How could....how could you just fucking lay there and listen to me sobbing and calling out for you all right and never come see that I was ok?!?" He was crying again and his voice was taking on the frantic edge that it had yesterday. 'And every other fucking day for the last three months' Paul thought bitterly. "That's a citeable offense, I've charged people with that before. It's neglect of the vulnerable! I could've smashed my head in on the table, or had another heart problem. I coulda been dyin' and you wouldn't have known it til ya found me today! When were you even gonna look in on me, or were you even plannin' to?!?" Alec said accusingly. Paul could only stare at the floor as Alec continued his tirade. "Is that what you were hopin' for? Findin' me dead and bein' rid of me finally? Because if that's what you want, I can make it happen." His voice wavered on the last word. "You're not the only one exhausted by my bullshit, you know." Paul felt like he should be speaking, arguing, saying anything against Alec's reference to suicide, but he stayed mute. Because when he was honest with himself, and honest with Alec, he well and truly was exhausted by his bullshit.</p><p>He was exhausted by the fighting, by the walking on eggshells, constantly afraid he'd set him off somehow. He was exhausted because he was always giving comfort and never receiving any in return. He was empty. He didn't *actually* want to be rid of him as a person, of course not. He just wished there was a way for his husband to crawl out of the corpse he'd become, to somehow shake it all off and go back to being his snarky, sweet, gentle, moody spouse. He missed him and some days, it truly felt like Alec was already dead, like there was no way the empty shell of a human in front of him could ever have held a place of prominence in Paul's heart. Who had they become in three short months? Wasn't stuff like this supposed to bring people closer, not push them apart?</p><p>He didn't answer Alec as he stood to walk away. He should've, but he didn't have anymore words left to say, or any more tears left to cry. </p><p>And so he stood, and he walked away.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Day We Changed Forever</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Flashback to the day Alec was injured in the line of duty.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Same TW's apply.  This short chapter goes into more detail of Alec's assault.  Don't read if that is a no go for you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three Months Earlier </p><p>********************</p><p>"Hardy, look out!!" Ellie screamed, but it was too late. Hardy turned just in time for the large hunting knife to sink into his chest, sliding easily between his ribs, through flesh and muscle, bone and cartilage, blood and lung, just above his right pectoral muscle. Before he was even able to struggle with the assailant, the knife was being pulled from his chest and driven into his abdomen. Fire filled his entire being as day seemingly turned instantly to night and his vision went black. He could hear Ellie screaming, but even she sounded far away now. Was it always this cold in July? He felt like he was flying. 'How did it go so wrong?', he wondered as another wave of agony shot through him and the flying feeling stopped as suddenly as it started.  Now he was even more cold.  And wet? </p><p>They'd chased the assailant to the end of a pier and he was cornered, no way out. It seemed like it would be a cut and dry reading of the rights, arrest, and quick trip back to the station. Which was good, because they shouldn't have even been the ones to take this call, they just happened to be close when it came in, and then it turned out to be a suspect already under their investigation for a series of violent crimes in the area. All it took though was one lapse in Hardy's concentration to turn an ordinary arrest into a life changing event. To separate his days into 'Before and After' in the worst possible way. The assailant was at the very edge of the pier, eyeing Hardy warily (like all cornered animals) as he read him his rights. Hardy was walking towards him to get him cuffed, but then turned briefly to Ellie to ask her for hers because his wouldn't open. In a split second the man was on him. </p><p>Ellie screamed as the man buried a large knife in Hardy's chest, but it was too late. Before Ellie could close the distance enough to taze him, he'd stabbed Hardy again, possibly in the stomach and pushed him over the edge of the pier. He only fell a few feet, but he landed in an awkward, mangled heap on the rocks below. Ellie tazed and subdued the man, called for back up and nearly threw herself off the pier after Hardy. The waves were rushing over him as the tide came in and the voices in her head took turns screaming "move him!" and "keep him still, you don't know if his spinal cord is ok!". Judging by the way his upper half was twisted the opposite of direction of his lower half, she listened to the latter voice and tried her best to staunch the bleeding while she waited for the medics to arrive. She'd never been so glad someone was unconscious before. Her backup and the medics arrived at the same time and within two minutes of her calling in an "Officer Down" over the radio, the pier was teeming with other law enforcement officers and paramedics. Relief washed over her like the stupid waves that had soaked both of them, and she could do nothing but shake and cry as Hardy was loaded into an ambulance and taken to hospital.</p><p>When Alec had tried to open his eyes next, they felt like they were filled with sand. They were dry and itchy and he wanted nothing more than to reach up and scratch them, but his arms felt like lead and he couldn't move them. He could hear machines beeping, could feel tubes in his nose, the cold flow of oxygen into his lungs. Oh God, his lungs. He'd never been so aware of the act of breathing in his life. He cried out in pain and tried curling in on himself, only to find he was too weak to do anything more than writhe around pathetically. His stomach was on fire now too, why couldn't he just curl up and make this all go away? If only he could move, he could fold in on himself and make this all go away. A small woman with a kind face appeared at his side and he felt something cold in his arm just as his vision faded once again.</p><p>The next time he came to, he saw Paul's red swollen eyes and splotchy face as he sat leaning against Alec's bed rail. His hair was a mess, and he had what looked to be several days worth of stubble trying to turn itself into a beard. How long had he been out? He tried to speak, to say anything, but the same sand that filled his eyes earlier now took residence in his throat. His hands felt less heavy as he flailed his left towards Paul, grateful when it landed on his arm.  </p><p>Paul gently grasped Alec's thin, cool hand in his own, bowed his head to press kisses to his knuckles and wept violently.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. "I'm too late...."</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Oh God, no.  I'm too late..."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Same TW's.  Nightmares and PTSD in this one.  Stay safe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He walked away and turned to slump against the wall across from Alec. The kitchen was tiny, so he was able to reach out and nudge one of Alec's now outstretched feet with his own. Alec looked up, unsure of what was coming next. "I'm sorry." is all Paul could manage and even as he spoke them, the words felt cheap and hollow somehow. Paul had ignored Alec's cries, left him alone to lay on the floor and suffer all night, yet he here he was, expecting "I'm sorry" to somehow be enough, to undo all of the damage he'd done by neglecting his husband when he needed him most. Alec was right, he was a monster; what kind of spouse let's their partner suffer intentionally? What kind of partner emotionally distances themselves so far off that they forget their police officer spouse has severe injuries as a result of being assaulted while protecting the public? "S'okay..." Alec mumbled, not making eye contact. "I, uh...I'm gonna go have a shower, get myself cleaned up again...." he said, taking a few steadying breaths before bracing his damaged hands on the ground, gritting his teeth and inelegantly pushing himself to his feet. "Do you want some help?" Paul asked, trying to sound hopeful that Alec may let him, that he may actually forgive him and accept his help. "Nah, no bother." Alec said coolly as he made his way slowly down the hall, never looking at Paul. This time, he made sure to not use the walls or the furniture for support. </p><p>He would hate to dirty and ruin that too.</p><p>Once in the bathroom, he turned the shower on as hot as it would go. He fumbled with his clothes, the act of raising his arms much above his waist still a painful struggle. He briefly reconsidered asking Paul for help, then laughed bitterly at where that had gotten him last time. So he struggled with the buttons on his shirt, blood slick and fidgety, then with his back brace, stupid fucking thing that it was, then his t-shirt. He peeled it off the way he had when he'd had his pacemaker surgery, one arm, then the other, then he bent over gingerly and slid his trousers and pants off. He hissed when he stepped under the hot spray of water, each injury still fresh and healing and painful. He choked back a cry as he poured soap into the open wounds on his hands, then set to work scrubbing and cleaning them out as best he could. It hurt, but he deserved it. </p><p>He shook as he ran his hands over the thick scar on his chest. The one on his abdomen, just below and slightly to the left of his navel still made him dry heave when he touched it or looked at it. Not out of disgust, not really, but because that one reminded him every single time he looked at it how close he really had come to dying under a pier that day just 12 weeks ago. He gasped and shuddered as he made a cursory pass over it, a half assed attempt at keeping it clean, then leaned his forehead against the cool tiles on the wall of the shower, trying to steady himself against the onslaught of memories. Memories that seemed to get more and more clear the further and further away from that day he gets.</p><p>He can see the man's face as he lunges at him, feel the knife sinking into him in slow motion, only to be ripped out violently and then slowly plunged into his gut. He can feel hot, fresh blood rushing out of him as he falls, then an electric bolt of agony as he hits the rocks and four bones in his back give way. Ellie is screaming, her pleading broken only by her sobs, and the primal, desperate sound of it rings clearly in his ears. Before he has time to react to the phantasm, he's on the floor of the shower, crying out from pain as he jars his unbraced back. Paul is there in an instant, still clothed in his pajamas, but climbing all the way into the shower anyway, stroking Alec's face, running his fingers through the beard he's grown and trying to comfort him. </p><p>Alec wants to be an ass, wants to push him away, tell him to fuck off, but all he can manage is fisting his hand in Paul's now soaking wet t-shirt and sobbing into his hip. They stay like that, Alec trembling and clinging and Paul touching and comforting, until the hot water runs out. Paul turns off the shower, then helps Alec sit upright. He gets them both out of the shower and dried off, then helps Alec make the slow walk to the bedroom. He helps him dress, then helps him put his back brace on and halfway through helping him button his pajama shirt, Alec gently grabs Paul's hands in his own, aware that they need bandaging, but not caring at the moment.</p><p>He replays telling Paul that he could "arrange it" in reference to his own death and he cringes. He screws up his face against the shame and the tears and the self-loathing. 'No wonder Paul hates me,' he thinks. 'I hate me, too.' "Thank you, darlin'," he chokes out instead. "Thank you for helping me." His voice is shaky, barely audible, but Paul knows how much effort it took for Alec to even get that far. How much of his pride he had to swallow down in order to get it out. "Of course." Paul replies softly, knowing it sounds so stupid and so hollow in light of how he's treated Alec in the last few hours. He returns to the task of buttoning Alec's shirt then guides him to lay back down in bed. He pulls the blankets over his husband and helps to adjust the pillows behind him. "Stay here, I'll be right back." And in a moment he's gone and back with a handful of gauze and tape and ointment for Alec's hands. He rolls up his husband's sleeves and begins gently applying the gooey medicine to his fingers and hands and wrists, then covers his skin tenderly with gauze and tapes it so it will all stay in place. He pulls his sleeves back down, brushes Alec's soft, unruly fringe out of his face and kisses him gently on his prickly, sunken cheek. </p><p>Alec closes his eyes and sinks further into the pillows, trying to find a comfortable position for his back, chest and stomach. He still feels as raw and vulnerable as his wounded hands but when he feels the mattress dip beside him, he instinctively opens his arms without even looking, inviting Paul into his space. Paul curls into his left side, head resting on his pacemaker scar, careful not to disturb his other injuries. They both start to speak at the same time, but Alec yields and let's Paul say his piece first. </p><p>"I'm so sorry I've been so wretched to you these last few weeks," he says tearily, clinging to Alec like he himself will be swept out to sea if he let's go or loosens his grip. "I'm just so, so tired. And I feel so *empty*, and I'm afraid for you, and I don't know how to help you through this, and I'm tired of fighting with you. I want to help you, but I can't and I feel so, so powerless against this thing that's devouring you from the inside out...I miss you. I miss us." he's sobbing now, shaking with anxiety and relief at finally having said these things aloud. Alec draws a ragged breath and pulls Paul in closer. "Aye, shh, I know darlin', I know. It's ok.." he says gently. "IT'S NOT!" Paul shouts, causing Alec to start then hiss in pain at his sudden movement. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Paul says in a rush. "It's just...I-I left you *alone*, Alec. I heard you crying out and I was so hateful, so despondent, so detatched that I just let you lay there. You're right, you could've been seriously injured, you could've d-died and it would've been m-my fault if you'd..." he can't even finish his thought before he bursts into tears and now Alec is the one placing quieting kisses on his head and shushing him. </p><p>"Aye, l know darlin', I know. I've been wretched too, I know it. I hate what I am, what I've become. I hate that I've been so angry. You've just been tryin' to do your best and I've been moping about and makin' it hard for you. I'm sorry." Alec said, somehow managing to hold Paul even closer still. "I know you don't have anything left to give, I know I've taken it all and given you nothin' but trouble in return. I'm sorry. You don't deserve such a miserable mess of a husband, you deserve so much better than I can give you. I'm sorry."</p><p>They lay there in silence, listening to eachother breathing, glad for the first time in weeks to be so close to the other. When Paul felt Alec drift back to sleep beside him, he extricated himself from his arms and went back to the kitchen to make them a proper brunch. He opened the windows, tidied the living room, and went back to the kitchen when he heard the toast pop up from the toaster. Just as he finished plating their food, he heard Alec let out a blood curdling scream and then what sounded like his body hitting the floor. He abandoned breakfast and ran back to their bedroom as fast as he could, calling out "I'm coming!" so Alec would know he wasn't alone this time. Never, ever would he be alone again. </p><p>His heart stopped as he stepped through their doorway and saw Alec laying on the floor, eyes open and lifeless, blood pooling around his head. "Oh God, no.  I'm too late..." he thought to himself as he felt his knees buckle beneath him.</p><p>It was his turn to scream now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. "I Didn't Find You In Time..."</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"I came back, but it was too late...I didn't find you in time...."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've fought tooth and claw with this chapter, that's why it's so short.  I'll add the next bit once I reconnect with it and can get past the writer's block from hell I'm having with it....comments and kudos are always appreciated.  I take them as lucky charms and they inspire me to keep going, so thanks in advance 😘</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alec woke with a start, suddenly aware that he'd drifted off as he felt Paul struggling against and hitting him. It took him a moment to register that Paul was still asleep himself, and based on the screaming, he was in the middle of a violent night terror. "Darlin'?" Alec said as he grabbed Paul's shoulders and shook him somewhat forcefully. Paul went limp and sobbed harder, still asleep, but no longer physically lashing out at Alec. "Shh, darlin', you're ok, you're ok, we're at home in bed, you're safe. Wake up, yeah?" Alec said as he gently gathered Paul up and rocked him in his arms. Slowly, Paul opened his eyes and pushed Alec away, staring at him in disbelief. He reached out to trace his jawline with his fingers but stopped short, hand hanging awkwardly in the air between them. His eyes were still glazed over, as though he still wasn't quite awake. "No. No, you can't. You're not real. I made breakfast and I came back when I heard you scream. You...you were....the blood, you're not real, you d-d-died, I found you, I came back and I found you, but it was too late, there was so much blood...I came back, but it was too late...I didn't find you in time...." he trailed off, his voice a shaky whisper that was barely audible, even in the stillness of their bedroom. </p><p>"Oh no, darlin', it was just a nightmare, look, I'm here, I'm real. 'M not dead, see? 'M here with you. 'M here." Alec said hurriedly as he took Paul's trembling hand from where it hung frozen between them. He placed a gentle kiss into his palm and Paul broke the moment skin met skin. He really was here, and alive, and warm. And real. He wasn't dead. Paul crumpled into Alec's arms and wept like he never had before. Weeks and weeks of stress, anger, sadness and fear came pouring out in great gutteral sobs as Alec held him and whispered more apologies and promises into his hair. Soon enough though, Alec was also sobbing as he clung to his husband. He let himself feel the fear, let himself grieve what had been taken from him; his mental wellbeing, his sense of independence he'd regained after his heart surgery, his feeling of *safety*. And most of all, his relationship with Paul. He was devastated and enraged in equal measure that he'd allowed a stranger and a criminal to come between the two of them. He inwardly cursed his stupidity at reverting back to feeling like he *had* to go it alone, like he couldn't share how he was feeling, what he was afraid of, what he needed, with Paul. </p><p>Eventually as their breathing evened out and the tears subsided, Alec ventured to speak. "Do you, uh....can...can we talk? About it?" he offered somewhat awkwardly, having no idea how to even begin such a conversation. "If you want?" Paul said quietly, unsure as to whether or not he a actually wanted to do this right now. He would've been content to cling to Alec, to listen to his heartbeat, to feel his breath in his hair and simply rest in the knowledge that he was alive still, but Alec was a man of few words. If he felt like talking and sharing right now, then that's they would do.</p>
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